As we age, especially, this becomes more prevalent. May this not happen to you, but probably it has. Shakes our faith. A devoted Christian woman, 70 something, a volunteer at Yokefellows, last evening, shared her husband died several weeks ago and how she isolated, became reclusive and anexoric, but the cards sent, signed with several dozens of inmate signatures, uplifted her.



Time obliterates when word arrives—

That beloved one has left.

In grief’s tumult, Certainty splinters,

And falls in gloomiest cleft.


Then more are gone: plaque makes its fatal block—

The slick spot on the road’s bend—

The phantom force commits his dark deed—

So many wakes to attend.


A soul, stunned numb, exhausted and blank,

Gropes to grasp with senseless cries,

Praying and pleading through muzzled days,

To ask again and again, “Why?”



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